Today we walked into the city to find the Mercedes Benz parts shop so The Swede could fix the headlamps on the ol' Smart Car, a chore that is becoming more and more relevant as the daylight hours are quickly getting shorter. Despite the masterpiece of a map he drew on a piece of loose-leaf before we left the house and because of some shady directions en route, we found ourselves lost. After a few phone calls for directions and some pacing around the city we sat down on a bench. I thought this expression was frustration, but moments later Papa Swede rolled up in the Volvo to rescue us and The Swede had totally planned it without telling me. Now I know: this look is self-satisfaction.
typiskt calle
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